As I sit down and my fingers begin to move across the ebony and ivory, I feel my heartbeat quicken as it becomes connected with the melody. I hear the sharps and flats and reflect on the high moments in my own life as well as the treacherous low points. As I move along, reading the music notes that are placed before me, I reflect on my own life and experiences.
I make the music here, just as I make it through the journey of life. I step on the pedals with force and assurance, confident in my abilities. I come across a wrong note and pause, resisting the urge to smack my hand for the mistake, but I quickly recover just as I would in every day life, persevering through the bumps I encounter on the way. I reach to change the settings and listen as the sounds come to life.
In the same way, I try new things on the journey of life, taking leaps of faith and trusting in myself. It took a leap of faith to learn to play the organ, trusting in myself and God to get me through. My church organist died suddenly of cancer within a month of diagnosis. No one else in church could play the complicated instrument. The organ was silent and many thought it would never be played again. I only had a few years of piano-playing experience, and tackling the magnificent organ, with multiple keys and pedals, was quite daunting. The idea itself was intimidating, especially to a thirteen-year-old girl.
With my family behind me, I decided to commit to what would become the greatest experience of my life. The first time I climbed onto the stool to play, trembling with fear and overtaken by butterflies, I knew I had big shoes to fill. Could I ever be as good as she? Would the congregation like it? As I played, I glanced up for a second and realized many were crying. My playing was a surprise to the congregation; the only person who knew was my aunt. In finding the courage and confidence to play, God allowed me to offer a meaningful gift to my church family.
I look again at my music before me and am grateful for the illuminating light that is cast down, allowing the music notes I read to be clearly unmasked. I say a prayer, thanking God for guiding my life and having every aspect, even the unseen parts, made clear and under His guidance. As the song comes to a close and everyone applauds, I only hope when my life is complete, that people will reflect on the accomplishments I had. Did the song I play in life leave behind some form of legacy? This is my dream as an organist as well as my dream as a participant in the song of life.